Succession
by SeaBreeze
Summary: Kenshin reflects on his life the past, present, and future, and how he ended up in the Kamiya Dojo.


Succession

By Seabreeze

A/N: Just something I've been kicking around the attic for awhile. Actually, I started off thinking I was going to write the something I'd been kicking around the attic, and this came out instead.

I apologize for not writing a word since, oh, Juneish. Life just got busy, which is definitely not a bad thing, but it doesn't leave much time for fanfiction. Writing _or_ reading. I miss it. I wrote this back in August and hated it so I never put it up, but I was re-reading and it's not half bad. Probably some historical discrepancies, but that's really not the point. I hope you enjoy it. Let me know.

Three-part one-shot.

Disclaimer: No. I don't own these characters.

- - -

Phase One:

Sorrow

- - -

"…_**Haste, ere the sinner shall expire! Of all his guilt let him be shriven, And smooth his path from earth to heaven!"**_

_-Sir Walter Scott, The Lay of the Last Minstrel_

- - -

It is said that the moment the sakabatou landed in my hands, I regained my humanity.

A strange thing to say, I think.

After everything I'd been through, a sword was the last thing on earth that was going to return my humanity to me. It certainly hardened my resolve to be a rurouni, but I would not say that that was the moment I regained my humanity.

I'd like to think I never lost it.

I'd like to think that no one ever loses it… it just gets pushed back behind the many complex ideals of chivalry, honor, heroism – the very things meant to preserve humanity.

But I was young. Ideals were everything to me. My humanity was why I became a manslayer. Humanity and compassion were the ideas I protected with my double-edged sword of virtue and justice.

My humanity was why I became a manslayer.

That is true. It is foolish, but it is true.

In all honesty, I believe I blocked out my humanity. I never asked why my targets had to die. I thought the information would get in my way – foolish, again. The real reason I never asked questions was because I didn't think I could handle the answers. Humanity again, the very thing I sought to protect, was an irksome thing that might prevent me from executing justice.

I knew I was making sacrifices, back then. But I did not understand my sacrifices, not truly. I sacrificed others, yes, for the common good. But I did not know that I was sacrificing myself as well. _My_ humanity.

I am all too familiar with blood. One simple character that holds billions of years of pain within it. It is one thing to discuss the blood I have seen… the blood I have spilt. The blood that runs in my veins, that continues to run. The blood I have made rain down from the skies.

But you will _never_ understand.

And I don't want you to. It is a part of me… a part of myself I wear openly, on my cheek. A part I cannot hide, and would not if I could. There are those dark secrets you hide, and those so dark and vile that concealing them would only add to your sin. I wear the blood of my past like a scarlet letter, warning all of where I have been.

You get to seeing and causing so much blood at such a young age, that the only way to not go insane is to become impervious to it. I barely noticed it, as time went on. A daily nuisance, at most.

And then…

Yes.

Then she died.

I loved her. It was the love of a foolish, infatuated child, but it was love.

I loved her. She was mine to protect, mine to escort into the new world I was yielding with my sword. Mine to love.

I do not… I cannot speak of her death.

But the moment… the moment I knew that her death was mine as well… my humanity grabbed me by the throat, and shook me and wouldn't let go.

As if every feeling I had refused to feel before in the name of justice was suddenly, and overwhelmingly, present.

_That_ is the moment I rediscovered my humanity.

I have never mourned anything in my entire life as I did that moment.

I never will again.

Even now, the emotions are too much to bear. They are replaced with a dull, unceasing pain. It beats, soft and constant like a human heart, pumping the very blood I had spent so many years spilling towards every last inch of my body. It is paralyzing.

I did not think I could handle it. I did not see how I would.

My new resolution was to never kill again.

The sakabatou, though given to me as an insult, eventually became the symbol for my new ideals. Ideals I am sure not only protect but enforce my humanity. It is not an easy thing to carry, not any of it.

But that is my eternal punishment, and I bear it readily.

Willingly.

- - -

Phase Two:

Solitude

- - - -

"_**Not all those who wander are lost."**_

_J.R.R. Tolkien_

- - - -

I knew when I picked up the sakabatou that my life had just changed forever.

But life is not predictable.

It is a truth you think you understand, but with every turn it surprises you again.

My life did change drastically; so much so that I suddenly found myself in a world of questions. What am I doing? Where am I going? What am I looking for? How am I going to repent for my sins? How will I deal with my guilt? Why am I still carrying around this _stupid_ sword?

_Who am I?_

It was the most shocking question of all, because I found I had no answer. Everything I thought I believed in turned out to be a trick of the mind. All my ideals had been turned upside down.

After the first year or so of wandering around aimlessly, the questions were still present in the back of my mind, but my primary concern was survival.

It is difficult to live without a supporter and guardian or a job.

I did odd jobs for people when I found myself in a village – carrying things place to place, watching for pick-pockets, fixing things, even doing laundry and watching small children. Needless to say, most of the people I helped were widows. There were surprisingly many of them, a fact I should've been quite familiar with. I sometimes asked myself if it was possible that it had been I, this lowly wanderer, who had taken away Yui-dono's beloved husband, and then I would find myself sneaking away before I could be rewarded with a warm meal.

But it is unlikely. The wars had deprived many of their husbands, sons, fathers. I had taken many lives, more lives than any other individual hitokiri of the revolution, but the deaths on my soul were few compared to the lives taken since the beginning of the wars.

I grew thin but tough. I learned to fish, hunt small game, light a fire and keep it going for a night without it spreading.

I met many people. I gave them the name Hiko-sama had given me – Kenshin Himura. I was not hiding my past, I was merely simplifying things. Few feared a crazy little scarred wandered, even if I did carry a sword at my waist. I must remind you that, back then, I was still only a boy. Even if I told them I was the Battousai, they would not have believed me.

But I was not the Battousai any longer. I had been him, once, but it was a name I no longer associated with.

There was a very long period I passed as a hermit. I don't know for how long – a year? Two years? Regardless, it was a very long time with no human contact, and during this time, my mind grew very quiet. Had it not been so quiet, I would've wondered if I was going insane. I would go for days with nothing on my mind but 'Light fire. Too weak. More wood.'

When a thought did happen to come along, I _listened._

At first, they were thoughts I understood well. Grief for Tomoe. Disgust at the blood on my hands. Fear of not repenting for my sins properly. Loneliness.

I watched these thoughts, emotions, and patterns within my mind casually, as if watching a kendo match I was mildly interested in. They were there, and I was there, so I might as well pay attention to them.

One day, without realizing it or understanding why, I destroyed my little hovel in the midst of the woods completely. I doused my fire, which my entire life had revolved around for at least a good 16 months, packed my few belongings, and left.

I did not know why, and I did not question myself. It was as if half of me had decided it was time to leave, and the other half willingly followed the first half without question.

Coming out of the woods into the open was a strange feeling. I felt like a target; like I was vulnerable without the trees around me. I ignored this peculiar fear, and traveled along the road until I ran into my first village in years.

The realization of my inner reaction towards all the people I met was the same - there was an undercurrent of love running for each and every one of them.

A love, I came to conclude, of humanity.

I cared for the widowed mother of three who offered me a meal shared with her small, incessantly tugging and prodding children before I wandered out of town.

I cared for the small boy who'd scraped his knee chasing his older brother.

I cared for the small boy's grandmother, who, upon finding me with her grandson, chased me for about a mile, all the while whacking me with her walking stick.

I cared for the group of drunks attempting to pick a fight with me.

I cared for the local police force, who would try to arrest me for carrying my useless sakabatou.

I cared for the quiet girl who blushed when I offered to help her carry her load for awhile.

I cared for those who, even after a few hours of acquaintance, cared for me.

I cared for those who mocked me and called me hateful names.

I had always cared, for all of them. For those I had met in the past, those I would meet in the future, and the many that I would never meet in my lifetime.

It is why I had had to detach myself to kill as a manslayer.

As strange as it was, I cared for the men I was sent to murder. I locked my humanity away before I truly knew I had it, just so I could kill them.

As this realization blossomed in my mind, I knew I could never again forget it. Never lock it away, push it down, beat it into submission. I could not kill it or lose it.

And if I had it with me always, it would be impossible for me to kill.

It took me awhile to realize that this was the basis for my resolution to never take a human life again. I could not destroy something I held such regard for.

Where I had distanced myself from the population before – from their thoughts, their emotions, their histories, their very lives – I found myself suddenly very in tune. Those who abused me did not do so because they were evil.

No human is evil. Not truly.

Each individual, you see, has _reasons_. Reasons for everything he does.

The grandmother who chased me with her stick was only protecting her grandson. How was she to know I was simply trying to help? Perhaps the boy's little sister had been kidnapped before by strangers, who, in her eyes, were just like me. The woman's scars from the little girl's disappearance prompted her to be especially wary of strangers, especially in regards to her grandchildren.

The girl I offered to help blushed perhaps because she is not used to being treated like a human being. Ever since her mother died, her father had been in such a state of depression that he could no longer care for her as a daughter. The girl, in order to support herself and her father, had no choice but to get a job in which she was treated as nothing less than a pack animal.

Sometimes I let my imagination run away with me.

Sometimes it is clear why people act the way they act. Sometimes it is not.

Perhaps I am taking things too seriously, yet I somehow still believe that behind every human face is a heartache, a story. Every person's story is different.

Yahiko's parents died when he was young, and he was forced to work for the local yakuza doing dirty work and getting beaten daily.

Sanosuke's idol and brother-figure was beheaded before his very eyes when he was only a child.

I destroyed many lives. I killed the person I loved beyond all others.

I understand my impetus. Tomoe's death is why I am the way I am. At a terrible cost, the gods of fate gave me a very severe wake-up call.

Understanding my own past and how it affects myself has helped me see the tragedies that lie behind people's actions today.

Or perhaps it is the other way around.

Though now I believed I understood the root of mankind, and my corresponding reverence for it, I knew I was not worthy to have friends. I could care for others, yes, but I did not deserve to be cared for.

It was why I stayed a wanderer for so long. It was convenient.

I could help many people by spending my years traveling, and I was never in one place long enough to create attachments. I could touch other people's lives, just a tiny bit, and I would leave before they could really reach mine.

Then that fateful day ten years down the road…

- - - -

Phase Three:

Solace

- - - -

"**_Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending._****_"_**

_Maria Robinson _

- - - -

She barreled into my life like raging bull.

Literally.

Attacks had been attempted on me countless times throughout my travels. But this girl attacked with pure intentions; without spite. With a will to protect.

I would be lying if I said that didn't attract me to her.

So I was less than pleased when she passed out in my arms after rescuing her, and it became my duty to take her home and look after her.

I noticed her fighting spirit and her strength and knew automatically that as soon as she recovered, I was on my way.

_Far_ away.

And then those little girls.

Ayame and Suzume.

I'm a sucker for little girls.

And she still hadn't awoken, and it was my duty to ensure that she was alright, after all.

And excuses, excuses, excuses.

I knew when I upset her for mentioning her father that that was my cue to leave. She was right, I had no right talking of her deceased father. It was an easy way out, but I needed to get out.

But then that hand of fate, Gohei Hirama, intervened.

She was brave, and I am impressed she held those thugs off until I got there.

My heart clenched a little when I heard her saying that a sword was meant to protect people.

My blood boiled _a lot_ when I saw that he had her by the front of her shirt three feet off the floor.

I taught them not to mess with her again, and then I saw her eyes grow large as she looked upon me.

She knew.

That was that, and I already had my hand on the door when she called out.

She said a lot, but underneath it all she had one message:

Don't leave me alone.

I tried to reason with her, but she didn't seem to care at all that I was the Battousai.

Which was entirely foolish of her, because if you're going to share your home with a total stranger, you should probably _not_ pick a notorious manslayer out of all the options you may have.

And it was foolish, but it was the first time that someone had ever been able to touch me in that way.

So I stayed.

I was a wanderer no longer.

I think she worried, and still worries, that I don't love her as much as she wants me to.

But if only she knew… I love her as much as she wants me to and more. Much more.

I have many reasons for not showing her that I care as much as I do… it puts her in danger. It is a happiness I don't deserve.

But she has given me more than I can ever account for. More than she can even dream.

She is my everything. She is the epitome of what I want to be, what I have always wanted for myself. She is acceptance, she is love, she is happiness, she is home.

There are times I cannot suppress the feelings I have for her. When I left for Kyoto the first time. I had planned to leave without saying so much as a word, but I knew it would kill her.

I held her in my arms and never wanted to let go. It was the hardest thing I'd ever had to do; to feel that delicate body convulsing with silent sobs, to feel her hot tears soak my shoulder, and to leave her there.

I think she understood, though. She has always been an intelligent woman.

Every time there was a threat to her safety, I let my temper get the best of me. Gohei. Kurogasa. Enishi.

Enishi.

When I thought she had been killed… I died. That was it. My soul collapsed, dissolved, evaporated.

I was so numb. There is only so much a soul can take. That was it. That was my breaking point.

It's why I ended up in the village of lost souls. Literally, I was lost amongst the lost.

I was so nonexistent I didn't even hear when I was told that she was alive.

But she was. She is.

And I swear on everything important to me that she will live to be a hundred and three… and I will be right by her side.

Because if there is any life undeserving of love and happiness, it is mine.

But she doesn't care.

For some reason, Kaoru Kamiya loves me fiercely, with every fiber of her being, and I don't quite have the heart not to return the sentiment.

Whether I deserve it or not,

she is the one thing in the world that brings me solace.

- - - -

A/N: So hopefully you didn't hate that just like I did.

I'm not very proud of it, but the last manga came out (28), and I felt compelled to write something. It didn't end badly at all, but I felt lost just because it was over.

Kenshin's my biggest hero. And this is my terrible ode to the end of his story.


End file.
